Time is Breath
by Croutonic Sarcasm
Summary: Another breath– another moment to live. Gilbert, took in more air to his lungs, his slight frame quivering for a moment before slumping down to its hopeless shrug once more. Germany had fallen. Nazi!Germany, Miserable!Prussia


**This is a Final for my English class this semester. Awesome, right? :3 Reviews are appreciated!**

_"Time is breath." GI Gurdjieff_

Another breath– another moment to live.

Prussia, Gilbert, took in more air to his lungs, his slight frame quivering for a moment before slumping down to its hopeless shrug once more. Germany, Ludwig, the stupid idiot, had fallen. That invincible Third Reich he was so proud of was done. The Jews were free from persecution– America had helped create Israel as an asylum from mad men.

Mad men indeed; Ludwig had changed so much. He had once been so calm and respectable, but this war had changed him, turned him into a monster that even his older brother shied away from. Not from fear, oh no, Awesome was never afraid, especially of his own brother! But it was startling, and it rather hurt to see the man issuing orders so harshly, flicking a whip on the back of some poor man whose only sin was to be born. All while Italy watched on–!

Another breath– another moment to live.

Gilbert stretched slightly, his back popping and cracking as he sat straight, hissing in pain. It hurt too much, but he would do it– he'd always do it. He was awesome. There was nothing awesome couldn't do. Well, convince his brother he was doing wrong, it seemed. A pale, spindly hand reached towards the sky, the view cut into three by thick bands. His lips twitched into a mockery of his usual smirk, but vanished when a cloud obscured the sapphire sky.

The cloud meant it was going to get cold. He frowned and shuffled to face away from the square sky, looking down to his feet and thinking.

Another breath– another moment to live.

It had really happened. Ludwig's pride and glory, his leader had actually committed suicide. If Gilbert had been asked a mere decade ago if this was possible, he would have denied it vehemently. But it happened. War began over a foolish pact, a stupid treaty– Germany hadn't started the First World War! Austria had– that fool Roderich making a fuss over his assassinated Arch Duke. It wasn't Germany's fault that he was Austria's ally and he had to leap to his defense– nor was it his fault that it meant he was against Serbia... and therefore Russia.

Gilbert hissed at the thought of Russia. The man was a beast, a useless, hopeless, un-awesome BEAST. There was nothing good about him. Gilbert hated Ivan, hated him, hated him, hated him, hated the Russian with every fiber of his being. Even if Germany was the one to absorb Prussia, even if Ludwig was the one to condemn Gilbert to a camp because his eyes were not blue and his skin was too pale, Gilbert hated only Ivan. Ludwig just didn't know, he was just too young to understand what he was doing. Gilbert, after all, once part of Ludwig, felt each and every hurt the nation of Germany felt. Prussia was no longer a country in the true sense of the word– to survive, Gilbert had to adapt.

So, Gilbert was East, and Ludwig was West. Population that was so strongly segregated was split in ways that Ludwig did not understand. Ludwig felt little pain during the war– only skirmishes, battles, war wounds, and, of course, the death of his leader. But what was the death of the short man, what was the death of thousands of shoulders to the man who felt not a prick when millions of Jews died? Not only the Jews. Homosexuals. Gypsies. Mentally retarded. Gilbert felt each death upon his body, each last moment of begging for mercy from men with flinty eyes. His chest constricted from killing gas, his body weak from overwork and underfeeding. It was nothing to Ludwig. He was nothing.

Another breath– another moment to live.

Gilbert moved his thoughts from this morbidity, frowning and shifting uncomfortably. Each movement he made was checked by the wall, he was too big in the room to allow for shifting without intense effort. His nose brushes his knees, and his hands lay by his feet. He was always small and delicate, but this was just ridiculous. Not awesome at all. He managed a small chuckle. "Ksekseksekse..." It was small and tinny, though, echoing unpleasantly in the room til it eventually faded.

Gilbert let the silence return to prominence in the space, then struggled to turn once more to face the window again. Though it was small and was grey, perhaps the sun would shine through again. Once he accomplished the feat, his knees scraped cleanly and his hands had splinters, he let his gaze fall to the ground outside. There was now, but he felt no cold. Awesome didn't feel cold, after all. Right? Right.

A sunflower stood proudly in the snow, its sunny petals lightly dusted with snowflakes, its earthy green stalk strong and firm. The flower pointed towards the sun, even though its brilliance was hidden by the dark clouds, patiently awaiting its warmth for the day. Scarlet eyes watched it calmly, obscured only by fluttering eyelids as darkness pulled at Gilbert's consciousness every now and then.

Another breath– another moment to live.

I want that flower. Gilbert thought to himself. I want it. And I'm going to get it. He stretched towards the burgeoning life, arms going between the defined limits of the sky, daring to break out, to reach out. It was too far, but this simple fact of distance did not dissuade Gilbert from his goal. He smiled more firmly this time, then pushed himself up from the ground with his feet, pressing upon the grey floor to push his body towards the sunflower.

Still too far– the limit of the world pulled at him, wind whipping at hair the color of the snow and tugging him back in his promises of warmth, of food, of stability, and love. He felt the lies as they lashed at his body, felt the sharp sting of punishment for daring to disobey yet again. Who cared? Awesome was getting that damn sunflower!

He smirked, turning sideways to attempt to slip between the bars. The simple maneuver worked, and the emaciated albino flopped through the bars and landed outside his mind. The snow was harsher, here, the cold a bit more biting and the wind a bit more flaying, but the sunflower was also closer. He took short, weak steps towards the flower, hands rising from his sides as he reached out for the sun's glory– his fingers touched the soft petals, but he felt nothing more than a whisper of summer.

Another breath-- another moment to live.

He tugged on it, his weak fingers refusing to cooperate with his will. He was THE awesome, they would listen, and he'd get that blasted sunflower if it was the last thing he'd do! He managed to wrap deadened fingers about the stem loosely, then moved his hands up– the flower refused to budge. He tried harder, and pulled more, then the sun rose and dark spots appeared on the snow.

Gilbert's body shuddered. More dark splotches materialized, making the snow melt a slight bit, and a sharp retort bit through the howling wind.

"Comrade would not want to die, would he?" Russia, Ivan, called out from the window that Gilbert had just run from. "Russia likes Comrade Gilbert and would like him to come back. It is not as though Gilbert has anywhere to go. Gilbert is not a country. Gilbert has no homeland. Glbert is alone and belongs to Russia. Russia can hug him and pet him and feed him and play with him and punish him for bad behavior til he is broken and bleeding like Russia likes to see." He giggled, a child-like laugh out of place with the man's body.

Another breath– another moment to live.

Gilbert turned slowly, feeling sluggish as the snow darkened and he fell to his back. Ivan blinked, straightening a bit and leaning out the window to stare at the falling man, darkly gloved hands making him seem fake. Ivan smiled, tilting his head as a positively purple aura emanated from his large, stocky frame, then held out a hand. "Comrade looks lazy. Get up, Comrade! Get up! Listen to Russia."

He grasped the sunflower with his greater reach, then pulled it close and sniffed it delicately. "Russia thanks Gilbert for getting the sunflower." He closed the window, locking it tight to leave the scarlet-covered man in the snow. "Good night! Russia will get Gilbert tomorrow!" The window snapped shut with finality, leaving the broken man to bleed in the snow, eyes staring up at the one blue patch of sky.

Last breath– last moment to live.


End file.
